Potential
by Val-Creative
Summary: The cave's darkness sweeps out, as Newt holds his hand up. Bright-glow flames curl out of his fingers, shimmering beautifully in reds and golds. "That's helpful," Thomas says, impressed. /Newtmas. Newmas. Modern magic AU. Standalone.


**.**

 **.**

The cave's darkness sweeps out, as Newt holds his hand up. Bright-glow flames curl out of his fingers, shimmering beautifully in reds and golds.

"That's helpful," Thomas says, impressed. The most he can do right now is freeze over the trickles of running water at their feet. Which is _not_ helpful.

Elemental magic _chooses_ you from birth, and what your abilities are gonna be—no one ever can predict it. Thomas's mom had been overjoyed to see he developed ice powers just like his father. Another happy memory of him.

Problem is… Thomas is not especially _good_ at it. He's in remedial classes, practicing his ass off, and it's not seeming to click.

(He has _untapped potential_ , his professors assure him. _Right._ )

Newt leads on, blood trickling slowly down his cheek. "This is a cave-in, not a museum, let's go," he says aloud, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 **.**

 **.**

So far the only injuries to this earthquake catastrophe is bumps and bruises—Newt's glaring face-wound and Thomas's sore left ankle being the worst of it. He can get along pretty fine, keeping one hand to the cave wall, limping after Newt.

On instinct, Thomas flicks out his magic, feeling the warm, slick dampness of rock under his palm cool. It's grossing him out. A lot.

"If Minho was here, we'd be outta here in no time," he points out.

Their mutual, close friend grasped easily at his own elemental, able to move large boulders and rocks, shake the damn foundation of the academy building.

… which got him into more trouble than anyone can count, come to think of it.

Newt's shoulders tighten up, and Thomas can't figure out if it's dismay or irritation casting shadows to Newt's expression as he looks back at him.

"He's not here, is he?" Newt replies grimly, arm still raised, flames still glowing. "Don't fall behind, alright? I'm not dragging the both of us out."

"Aye, aye," Thomas mutters, sulking a little. Jeezus, what was with fire users anyway? Newt and Gally were always snapping at him. Gally, mostly.

Thomas manuevers himself around a pile of rocks when he hears Newt's footsteps halt. "What's up?" he calls out, not liking the extending silence.

" _Shuck_ ," Newt curses in a soft whisper, pressing his free hand to the painfully real and entirely solid wall of cave in front of him. Oh, shit shit shit shit.

Thomas switches his supporting hand and peers behind them, all the way back to that chasming, swallowing darkness. "Should we go back?"

"Go back to _what_?" A harsh mock-laugh echoes and reaches Thomas's ears. "The bloody rocks blocking us from the only way out of this death-trap?"

Thomas, however, is a little more optimistic.

"Can't you do something, with your, uh…"

Newt takes a moment to climb back over, lowering his flaming hand. He scrunches his eyebrows in disbelief. "You want me to create an _firey explosion i_ n an oxygen-filled pocket, likely with the chances of burning us both alive?"

"… Well, when you put it like that," Thomas mumbles, lowering his eyes.

The other teen just shakes his head, moving past Thomas. He sucks in a deep, loud breath. "Let me think a second," Newt tells him, that glare of red on pale, sweating skin. "You need to sit down before you twist your leg, Tommy."

The rock-covered ground smells like musky water, but he locates a dry patch.

Newt joins him eventually, flopping with his back sliding down against a cave wall. Thomas stares then at Newt's flame. It's a decent size and light, fitting right in the cup of Newt's thin palm and completely soundless, too.

"How long can you keep that going?" Thomas asks, curiosity getting the better of him. This time, Newt doesn't seem to mind, looking him in the eye.

"Until I pass out," he says, knowingly.

Thomas's lips purse together, as if thoughtful. Despite everything going on, he grins. "I can make it _really_ cold," Thomas speaks up in feigned pride.

Newt's lips twitch up. "That's brilliant, shuck-face," he announces, elbowing Thomas in his head. "Wait, that's _brilliant_ ," Newt repeats, suddenly wide-eyed.

"Wait what?"

Thomas peers up, confusion evident as Newt scrambles onto his feet, tugging on Thomas's arm. "Come on, get up—this was your damn idea."

 **.**

 **.**

"Wait, _WHAT_?" Thomas gapes openly, watching as Newt pulls out smaller rocks from the caved-in entrance. "I thought you said we'll get blown up!"

"Not if you do your part—listen, I can make the force of the explosion _at least_ break down more of the heavier rocks, but we need a _shield_ around us."

"To not get blown up," Thomas reiterates, his gut nervously turning into knots.

"Precisely."

Newt's about to stick one of his hand completely into a slick, self-made hole, but Thomas quickly grabs his wrist, insisting, "Hold on, just. Newt, I'm _barely_ good at even what I can do with my magic. Ask anyone, I-I'm—"

The frown isn't reassuring. "You have to do this—Tommy, we'll die down here. Nobody know we're out here. That's the reality of it." Newt leans in towards him, shaking off the hand and clasping Thomas's shoulder, fingers digging in roughly, encouragingly.

Heat shoots through Thomas, right into his bloodstream.

 _Real_ heat.

"Now, I'm trusting you. I think you _CAN_ do this… prove me right, Tommy?"

Thomas gives him a faint nod, seeing Newt's frown vanish and morph into a brief, gentler look. Newt's hand on his shoulder lefts go, guides up, and then cradles the side of Thomas's face so, so lightly. As if almost fearful.

He's memorized, speechless, even as Newt pulls away with no explanation and orders him to concentrate. _Concentrate, Thomas. Concentrate, Tommy._

It feels like a pleasant, cold tingle at first, working down from the very top of his head, all the way to Thomas's legs and calves.

And then, there's the rush of blinding, choking-hot air.

Thomas's magic races out, winding around both boys, forming and invisible. Debris and sunlight bursts into view, making them squint their eyes.

It's gone.

"Bloody hell, that worked!" Newt yells, still fastened within Thomas's shield, quivering visibly from the extreme drop in temperature. "You did it—!"

The embrace is rushed and disorientating, and Thomas senses his magic crackling against Newt's, but Thomas's arms tighten fiercely around him.

God, he's so warm and it's so strange.

Thomas can definitely get used to that.

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _Inspiration: "_ _you have fire powers and i have ice powers and one day you save my ass and even though we're supposed to be rivals, you're actually really really cute and warm can i just stay in your arms forever bc i am perpetually cold" AU post on Tumblr._

 _Aaah, I posted another! I couldn't help it. I'm so damn inspired. This is going out to all my past reviewers on "It Wasn't You" and all the new ones, and the Newtmas/Newmas fans! :) You all are so wonderful. A special shoutout to **QueenPersephoneofHades** (FFN) and **newtntommy** (AO3) for being wonderful friends, and I hope everyone enjoys this. Any comments/questions will be thanked with lots of hearts and me squealing.  
_


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